


Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

by juliusschmidt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Camping, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Sexsomnia, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 04:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4946152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliusschmidt/pseuds/juliusschmidt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis' tent is too small.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [niallsdancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niallsdancer/gifts).



> what. is. this. 
> 
> blame niallsdancer who prompted me... to write something waaayyy less kinky. it's my fault. it's all my fault. i'm sorry.
> 
> read the spoilery endnotes if those tags make you nervous.

The air is damp and it sits heavy on Louis’ skin. The sky’d been too dark to see any stars and the bugs had made a thick cloud around their (Harry’s) poor attempt at a campfire.

It’d better fucking rain tonight.

Harry’s squatting and hunched over, the top of his head pressed against the green nylon ceiling as he pulls off his t-shirt and tugs down his shorts.

His thighs ripple with effort, as, bare-ass naked, he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck. Even soft, his cock looks big- no, fuck that, _huge_ \- between his legs.

Louis blinks back a little twinge of guilt.

But whatever. It’s not creepy to watch Harry undress. Like, where the hell else is Louis supposed to look? And Harry likes the attention anyway. He’s grinning and watching Louis right back.

Harry doesn’t break eye contact as he lowers himself to the ground to sprawl out on top of his sleeping bag. Except sprawl is not quite the right word because his knees are folded up almost underneath his body and his shoulder digs into Louis’.

This tent is too small.

“This tent is too small,” Louis announces. Of course if fucking is. He’d said as much to Harry when they’d loaded up the truck. But that asshole had accused _him-_ Louis DANGER Tomlinson- of being afraid of Harry’d assault him in his sleep.

And then he’d gone on to punctuate the accusation with a wink and a lick of his lips.

As if Louis couldn’t take a little closey-closey with one of his best mates.

So Louis’d sacked up and shut up.

He regrets that decision now. If the air outside the tent had felt like a steamed-up bathroom after a hot shower, the air inside the tent wraps around their bodies like a wet towel.

Louis is going to suffocate in sleep. That is, if he can even fall asleep, at all.

He lays back and stares up at the fraying duck taped patch on top of the tent. Beside him he can feel the rise and fall of Harry’s chest with every. single. breath.

Again, he says, “This tent is way too fucking small.”

“Maybe I’m just too big,” Harry replies, turning to waggle his eyebrows suggestively.

Which, no, because 1) if they’re talking about cock size, though he can admit that Harry is _huge,_ there’s no such thing as too big, in Louis’ experience and 2) if they’re talking about body size, Harry has _literally_ the perfect body- muscular arms, broad shoulders, a trace of abs, narrow hips, a slightly rounded ass, thick thighs. Even his feet are lovely.

“Wrong,” Louis says, without explanation.

“I see how it is, “ Harry’s says, loudly. Or maybe not that loudly. His mouth is only an inch away from Louis’ ear.

“The only thing I’m afraid of his not being able to sleep,” Louis informs him, attempting to preempt his evil taunting.

“Not what I was going to say.”

Louis can feel Harry’s breath on his neck, hotter and wetter even than the air. It sort of tickles.

He turns his head. “Okay, how is it, then?”

They’ve been friends for several long months now and Louis knows Harry’s fake-ass pout when he sees it.

And the wide eyes and bulging lower lip he’s got on right now? It’s a fucking sham.

“You don’t want to be near me,” Harry says.

Louis blows out a breath and it rustles the lock of hair resting on Harry’s cheek. “You’re a big baby.”

Harry scoots his body even closer. Their lips are not even an inch apart. “I thought you liked me.”

Louis closes his eyes and them opens them. Harry’s still wearing that stupid, phony sad face.

Louis bites his lip and Harry’s expression changes, darkening a bit. Louis supposes he can say it now, in a tent in the middle of the woods. Niall’s been coaching for weeks now.

But, well, maybe he scared of something.

Like, possibly, rejection.

The look Harry’s giving him now, though, pupils blown, lips parted, barely breathing- it doesn’t really hint at rejection.

Like, at all.

So Louis says, “Yeah, I like you.”

Harry nods, bumping their noses together. “Good, me too.”

“Yeah?” Louis whispers, his lips brushing against Harry’s as he forms the word.

“Yeah,” Harry whispers back, returning the almost kiss.

Then, abruptly, Harry reaches behind him and clicks off the lantern. The tent goes dark and Louis’ breath leaves his chest.

And he waits.

And waits.

And waits.

But Harry doesn’t lean in again.

In fact, when Louis’ eyes adjust to the dark, he sees that Harry’s on his back, hands folded over his stomach, eyes closed, breathing evenly.

The asshole’s fallen asleep.

Louis suppresses the urge to shout. Sighing, he shifts onto his back, or, rather, he tries to. The hard bulk of Harry’s backpack digs into his shoulder blade and Louis ends up returning to his side.

The truth remains: the tent is too damn small.

~

 _This_ time, Louis’ got him. Liam’s always sneaking up on him with those goddamn tiny-ass waterguns. Well, he’s the one in for it now. Louis’ going to fucking soak him- push him off the dock into the lake, fully clothed.

He reaches out.  Or, rather, he tries to reach out.

His arms are stuck, _frozen._

Of. Fucking. Course.

Liam’s right in front of him, practically begging to thrown in, to have his preppy new shirt drenched with murky brown water and Louis’ arms won’t work for him.

He whines, frustrated, and the sound of it is loud, too loud-

\--startling him awake.

Louis groans. What a good goddamn dream. _Fuck_.

Far better than waking up, sweaty and sticking to the top of his sleeping bag, a heavy weight banded hot around his chest and another tight over his legs.

It’s Harry that’s plastered to him.

Harry- the Harry who he likes and who likes him back- has an arm around his chest and a leg across his thighs. The very same Harry is mouthing at his neck and his hips-

Oh fuck.

Harry’s hips are rubbing rhythmically against Louis, and through his thin boxers Louis can feel Harry’s hard cock, already wet at the tip.

A small wave of irritation washes up in him- he was ready for sexytimes, earlier, when Harry’d gone to sleep on him- but it subsides quickly because Harry is moaning and Louis can feel the low vibrations of it shiver against the nape of his neck and down his spine.

Suddenly, he’s hard, too.

“Alright, yeah,” he murmurs, turning his body toward Harry. The whole tent shakes as he moves and it’s loud- the zippers on the door jangling, the nylon sleeping bag hissing and the tarp beneath them crackling.

When they’re pressed, front to front, one of Harry’s hands slides down Louis’ side, grip firm, and grasps his ass, nails biting into his skin with enough edge that he worries, briefly, whether Harry’ might rip the cotton between them.

Harry slides one of his (perfectly) thick thighs between Louis’ own, and grinds it up onto Louis’ cock. He’s pressing _hard_ and it burns a little. In a good way.

“Oh, _fuck,_ Louis,” Harry rasps, lips moving wetly on Louis’ cheek, as he arches so that his own cock mirrors Louis’, pushing forcefully against Louis’ thigh.

Louis’ breath sort of stutters out of his chest. He imagines that if any of the other boys- all sleeping in tents nearby-woke up, they’d be able to hear the moaning and the rustling and know _exactly_ what Harry and Louis were getting up to.

And it’s not that Louis hasn’t fantasized about doing exactly this with Harry, it’s just… he hadn’t expect them to move so _fast._

Seeing as it’s taken them four months to admit to even liking each other, the most Louis’d expected of this camping trip- even taking into consideration the too damn small tent- was a few stolen kisses before crawling into separate sleeping bags (and perhaps, if he’d been really lucky, hanging back during a hike for a hasty handjob).

Apparently, Louis’d miscalculated.

Because Harry’s hands are sliding his boxers down hips, his own long gone.

Their cocks graze and it’s, yeah, it’s almost too much. Almost. “Harry, can I…?”

Harry doesn’t answer. Instead, he slips a hand between Louis’ cheeks and presses a finger against his hole. Which, Louis, supposes is answer enough.

He reaches between them and takes their cocks in his fist and begins to pull both them off in rhythmic strokes. Their skin is smooth and warm beneath his fingers, and he can’t help but measure, feeling out Harry’s impressive length against his own hefty girth.

Louis wishes he dared turn on the lantern. He wants to see what Harry looks like, hard like this.

He’s seen the crazy exhibitionist naked before, just a couple of hours ago in fact, but his cock’s always hung soft between his legs.

So Louis’d love to take his time, really get a good a look at Harry’s shape, see if he’s pink like the flush on his cheeks or if goes darker. But Louis doesn’t want to kill the moment. Harry’s so eager, _so insistent_. And, if he’s honest, as Harry’s finger presses inside him, maybe _Louis’_ a little desperate, too.

“I want to fuck you,” Harry murmurs into Louis’ ear.

Louis freezes, his grip on their cocks loosening.

That’s, um.

“Okay,” he whispers. Because he hasn’t been fucked in ages and he’s liked Harry for nearly as long and Harry’s so sweet, usually, and fuck if Louis’ mind isn’t more than a mess of confusion and heat and _want_.

Even in Louis’ wildest daydreams he hadn’t imagined Harry taking charge like this. And Louis’ enjoying it. He’s _really,_ really enjoying it, doesn’t want to do anything that might discourage more of it in the future.

So he says again, to make sure Harry’s heard him, “Okay, yeah.”

Harry groans overtop of Louis’ words, loudly, and Louis is not sure if Harry hears them. Except he must, because he’s rolling Louis over and lining up his cock with Louis’ and-

He’s bare- he’s about to fuck Louis _bare._

And while Louis might’ve been ready to have Harry inside him, might’ve even been ready for this to happen with limited prepping, he’s not ready for this.

“Fuck, wait.” Louis scoots away, plowing into the side of the tent.

Harry reaches for him, murmuring, “Come on, Lou.”

 _Lou_. Louis has a soft spot for that damn nickname, especially spoken softly, by Harry’s sleep-thick voice.

“Wait,” Louis says, fumbling around along the side of the tent. He might have a condom in his backpack- his backpack which is conveniently hung outside- _fuck-_ high up where bears can’t get at it.

His hand hits Harry’s bag, though, and he tries for a moment, unsuccessfully to pull open then zip. The pack slips loose from his now slippery fingers and something behind it hits the ground heavily.

The lantern.

Louis reaches for it and clicks it on.

“Ngggh, _Lou,_ ” Harry whines and Louis turns to see him, naked and bathed in soft white light, propping himself up with one hand. His other hand is on his cock, slowing its pace as spurts of come, slide down his fist and over his wrist.

His mouth is open and his eyes are blinking, suddenly, open, too.

He glances between Louis and his cock and the lantern, a line appearing and then deepening between his brows.

“Fuck,” he hisses out.

Louis’ at a loss. He’s never had a partner become so impatient as to masturbate with him _right there_ _searching for a condom_ before.

He watches Harry’s dick twitch and begin to soften and his dick twitches in answer, as if Louis needed reminded that that while Harry’s been really fucking rude, he’s still really fucking hot.

A clear drop of come, slides down Harry’s forearm leaving a trail of slick and fuck if Louis doesn’t want to follow that trail and lick it clean. He’s already in way too deep with this asshole.

One of Harry’s hands, the come covered one- _fuck-_ reaches up to cover his mouth and, then, voice muffled by his fingers, Harry says, “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe this happened. Louis, I’m sorry.”

“You fucking owe me,” Louis mutters, returning to his search. He’s at least going to get a blow-job out of this mess, by God.

“You were right,” Harry says, quietly. Louis looks back up at him, and his brows are still drawn together above his huge, openly horrified eyes. “This tent is too small. I should have listened.”

His voice cracks and Louis thinks he might cry.

Which, that’s a bit much.

“Calm down, Styles. You just came too quick to stick it in me. My ass is fantastic. It happens to the best of men.”

It’s literally never happened to anyone else, but Louis can’t stand the heartbroken look that Harry’s wearing.

“That’s not – no. That’s not what happened,” Harry says.

Louis sees it, then, in the inside pocket, a glint of gold which turns out be, yes, _a condom._

Louis holds it up. “Success. Think you can get it back up to actually fuck me or will I have to settle with a blow job?”

Harry’s chewing his lip. “You want to have sex?”

Louis shakes his head. “I already said you could fuck me.”

Harry’s eyebrows fly up. “You did?”

“Yeah, of course I did. Were you sleeping or what?” Louis reaches down and tugs at his cock, which has barely wilted at all. He’s not sure whether that’s to his credit or not.

“Yeah, I was,” Harry whispers. “Sorry.”

And then he repeats, more loudly, “I’m really sorry. I should’ve listened. This tent is really too small. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Louis meets his eyes, clear and green and intent.

“I was sleeping. Like, it’s happened before, with friends. I should’ve known I might attack you, or whatever.”

Louis’ jaw falls open. He closes it and asks, “You were sleeping? When you… when we…?” He lets the question drop and the condom.

Harry gives a small nod. “I’m really sorry.”

Louis looks down and picks at sleeping bag.

Well, _fuck_.

“Then you don’t want to fuck me?”

The words are out Louis’ mouth before his brain can stop and he knows immediately that his brain absolutely _should_ have stopped them.

Literally, he and Harry had only _just_ confessed their mutual interest after months of dancing around each other. They haven’t even kissed. The next step is obviously not _fucking_. How could Louis have even thought that?

“I do want to fuck you,” Harry says.

Louis meets his eyes and gives his cock a little stroke. “Right now?”

Harry looks around the tent, frowning. He says, “No, not right now,” at the same time as Louis says, “I mean, I’m up for it.”

Louis’ shoulders fall.

“I want to fuck you in a bed. After we’ve both showered. With candles and rose petals and lube. Not in a cramped, sweaty-ass tent in the middle of the woods with only this thin foam pad between your body and the rocks and roots and dirt,” Harry explains.

That’s a nice sentiment, but, “I was kind of excited about-“

He cuts off, when Harry holds out a hand. He gestures to Louis’ cock. “Can I touch you, though?”

Louis’ drops his hands to his sides and nods.

Harry’s palm is still a little damp from his own come and it feels cool against Louis’ heated skin. Louis hisses at the touch and fixes his gaze on Harry’s long fingers wrapped round him.

Harry begins to pull slowly, his grip light. “Is this okay?” he asks.

Louis looks up to meet his eyes, which are trained on Louis’ face, searching. Louis nods. “Yeah. Maybe harder. T _ighter_.”

Harry tightens his fist and _yeah_ , that’s how Louis likes it.

“That better?” Harry asks, voice a low whisper.

“When you were sleeping, you didn’t have nearly so many questions,” Louis tells him in lieu of answering.

Harry chokes out a laugh. “I know what I like.”

Louis leans forward so that their foreheads touch. “Good.”

Harry swallows. Voice thick, as his hand picks up his pace, he says, “But I don’t know what you like, not yet.”

“This is good.” Louis has difficulty forcing out the words. They stick to his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

Harry keeps the pace and Louis breath is coming in pants.

When he finally comes, he’s glad, suddenly, that their first time happened just like this. Glad he gets to watch, though through eyes slitted and all but shut, as Harry lifts his hand to his mouth to lick off Louis’ come, glad he can see that the pink in Harry’s cheeks matches the pink of his tongue.

Smacking a bit, Harry says, “Yum.”

“I know for a fact that does not taste that good,” Louis says.

“I do,” Harry replies, continuing to lick his hand. “I taste good.”

Louis lifts an eyebrow. Harry could’ve at least played at disagreement. “I don’t know how you taste.”

Harry waggles his eyebrows. “Yet.”

Louis eyes flick down to Harry’s lap, alarmed, but finds that his cock is still mostly soft.

Harry laughs. “I mean, I hope. We’ll like date.”

Louis leans in for a light brush of lips. Keeping their faces close, he murmurs, “Well, you’ve already promised me candlelight and rose petals.”

“I did.” Harry lies down on his back and reaches his arms out with grabby hands to pull Louis to him.

Louis clicks off the lantern before relaxing against Harry, tucking his head against Harry’s collar. Yawning, he whispers, “Dunno if I should fall asleep like this. Your dreaming self might get ideas.”

Harry stiffens. “I’m sorry.”

Louis chuckles. “It’s alright. I don’t mind. And, anyway, it’s not your fault. This tent is too damn small.”

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler: Basically, in the middle of the night Harry tries to have sex with Louis but he- Harry- is asleep. He wakes up, though, before they 'go very far.' This raises all kinds of consent issues which are extremely complicated to explain and piece apart, and several are at least hinted at within the fic. 
> 
> PSA: [Sexsomnia](http://www.webmd.com/sleep-disorders/features/sex-while-asleep) is a real thing that effects nearly 10% of the population (on a regular basis, just as Harry says in the fic). Educate yourself and, when in doubt, to avoid sexual/emotional/relationship trauma, double check to make sure your bedmate is actually, fully awake before accepting/returning sexual advances. The more you know! RAINBOW™
> 
> Say hi on [tumblr](http://juliusschmidt.tumblr.com).


End file.
